My Name is “Dunno” D:

Whilst out walking today, with a brave smile on my face despite the rain, I passed by a woman with a boy of pre-school age. As I carried on walking down the road, I heard the boy ask, “Who’s that?” to which his mother replied, “Dunno.”

Over the last year or so, I’ve become a weeny bit paranoid about being a dunno (short for don’t know).ย  Maybe it’s my age and the grey hairs sneaking in: still more gold than silver hairs, but the ratio between the two colours is becoming less acceptable with every passing day.

The paranoia started last year. Two days after our early music choir, LuxAeterna, gave a concert, I met a member of the audience in the street. I’m good with faces, so recognised her immediately and, being friendly, said hello. She raved about the concert to me, but then asked, “And which one were you?” I replied, “The one wearing a bright orange velvet top — the soprano standing in the front row in the middle.” “Oh,” she says, “I don’t remember you.” Hell, there are only fifteen of us in the choir. I rationalised that she needed a new pair ofย  glasses, but was too polite to tell her so.

Lately, even my house has become invisible: a conclusion I’ve reached after the refuse and recycling collectors have repeatedly emptied every waste bin in the street other than mine. I have three wheelie bins — one green, for cardboard, paper, tins, and plastic; one black for ordinary household waste; and one brown for garden rubbish; plus one little waste bin for bottles and jars. Each of my bins is clearly labelled with my house number and left out in front of my garage next to the pavement. Darn it, I even clean the damned things, so it’s not the smell that’s putting them off.

All the above leads me to ask, am I destined for obscurity? Or one day, if I ever become a well-known writer, will I be grateful for my ability to walk down the street incognito and live in an invisible house?

Below, is a photo I took of myself disguised as a male writer called S. C. Templeton, when I was considering publishing one of my old novels on Kindle as an experiment.


Author: Sarah Potter Writes

Sarah is a British eccentric who writes offbeat fiction, haiku and tanka poetry. When stuck for words, she sketches or paints instead. She's into nature conservation, sustainability, gardening, dogs, natural health, and reading. Her sociability is something that happens in short bursts with long breathing spaces in between.

15 thoughts on “My Name is “Dunno” D:”

  1. How interesting that you feel invisible. I am sure you are not, though apparently your rubbish is. Maybe you could start a new career as a cat burglar! c


    1. I’m only invisible until people have a conversation with me, but then my eccentricity makes me memorable!

      I quite fancy myself as a private investigator, rather than a cat burglar, although I always walk along so quietly that I’m apt to make people jump out of their skins when I overtake them suddenly. My dog walks quietly, too. I’m afraid we might give someone a heart attack one day.


  2. Don’t rush to being an anonymous author if you wish also to become a famous author. It is amazing how much ones readership wants to know about you, and feel that they do know you as they have actually met you. It helps enormously with the marketing of what you write, and builds that necessary following for any future books that you are working on.


    1. Don’t worry, this post is very tongue-in-cheek.I don’t intend to be an anonymous author, which is why I have my real name and my real face on my blog! The novel I mentioned is sword and sorcery fantasy, which isn’t terribly popular with publishers these days, so I thought I’d have a go on Kindle as I’m sure there are still some fans of this particular fantasy subgenre out there. The reason why I considered using a pen-name is because I’m writing in a different genre now (character-driven speculative fiction) and wanted to keep the two separate re marketing.

      Thanks, Richard, for visiting my blog.


  3. Hi Sarah,
    I think some of that might be projection, but I also think that there is something very real about becoming invisible as we age in a society that worships youth. The sight of moms and young children are heartwarming, and still catch the eye, but I think that might be preparing us to bow out to the gods of youth. I remember when I first began to be invisible to a store clerk or a waitress. I am torn between going quietly, and going kicking and screaming. Perhaps that’s what the Red Hat Society is trying to do–only go out laughing and shining. I also find that when I initiate a friendly conversation, I quickly become a real person again to whomever I am interacting with. Mostly, it is when I feel invisible to myself or want to be invisible that I withdraw and become invisible to the world. I think you are a beautiful person, and I hope you keep wearing hot orange velvet tops. Your author photo is a crackup, but that too is designed to keep you invisible. Have you thought about showing your own face with a tiny fake mustache and monacle, or something that would change your appearance, but still allow you to meet the eye of your audience head on?
    (Don’t know about the garbage bins–for THAT, I’d make a big sign and attach to them. “Remember us?” And I don’t think they’d ever forget you again.)


      1. Actually I did that (well I have grey hair anyway lol) but we did old lady fancy dress for a charity fundraiser at work and I did the full make up for it, it was a little too convincing as people kept stopping the supervisors to ask if I should be sat on a till lol ๐Ÿ˜€


  4. I absolutely want to be invisible!
    Fade into the background, left to do my thing in peace – can’t think of anything better ๐Ÿ™‚


    1. And there’s you, covering up the grey hairs!

      I enjoy fading into the background and left to do things in peace, too. I’ve very mixed feelings about the way publishers and agents expect writers to be in the limelight so much, but it’s a necessary evil that I would have to contend with if my writing took off big time. As long as I had a private hiding-place to retreat to, for emotional detoxification between public appearances, I guess I could cope with it. Not sure if I’m ready for any assault by the tabloid newspapers, though!


  5. I read somewhere recently that once women get to a certain age we become invisible ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Great! It appears it extends to our houses too! *pouts* ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Excellent post honey ๐Ÿ™‚



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